


Turn Out Your Pockets

by freudiancascade



Series: a softer red planet [3]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Established Relationship, I (like most of this fandom) am choosing to ignore key moments in Final Resting Place, M/M, Peter Nureyev vs Responsible Pet Stewardship, The Penumbra Mini-Bang Discord Server Made Me Do It, jupeter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 03:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16109426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freudiancascade/pseuds/freudiancascade
Summary: The tray was piled high with eight or nine guns, at least twenty different knives, several plasma cutters, a couple of smoke bombs, a couple of non-smoke bombs, multiple lockpicks, enough snack bars to feed a small army for a week, more keys than any one person could ever need, a living breathing hamster, four different flavours of gum, four passports, two wallets, eight pairs of glasses, a taser that looked like a lipstick case, a lipstick case that looked like a taser, three back-up outfits complete with accessories, a first aid kit, two wigs, a tangled heap of comms relays, and a crumpled pile of cred notes.Nureyev patted down his pockets one last time. "I believe that might be everything."





	Turn Out Your Pockets

**Author's Note:**

> Look, fam. It shouldn't need to be said, but I do not condone keeping live animals hidden in your garments. Please take better care of your pets than Peter does. #freeJuno

The tray was piled high with eight or nine guns, at least twenty different knives, several plasma cutters, a couple of smoke bombs, a couple of non-smoke bombs, multiple lockpicks, enough snack bars to feed a small army for a week, more keys than any one person could ever need, a living breathing hamster, four different flavours of gum, four passports, two wallets, eight pairs of glasses, a taser that looked like a lipstick case, a lipstick case that looked like a taser, three back-up outfits complete with accessories, a first aid kit, two wigs, a tangled heap of comms relays, and a crumpled pile of cred notes.

Nureyev patted down his pockets one last time. "I believe that might be everything."

"Oh, that's all?" Juno was starting to get a headache. "Here I was half-expecting you to pull a car out from there."

"Thank you, Juno! I knew I was forgetting something!" Peter's hand went quickly to the inside pocket of his jacket, flipping free the starter chip for the RUBY7 and setting it reverently on top of the heap. "There,  _now_ I'm certain that's everything."

The hamster had managed to wriggle its way free of the pile. Hopping down to the floor, it paused with paws splayed out across the off-white linoleum of Juno's kitchen tile, evaluating with tiny ears flicking back and forth. Juno watched it in a vague sense of shock. When he'd asked Nureyev to turn out his pockets, it was more out of a morbid curiosity than an actual concrete desire to know what contortions of physics took place within them. Peter Nureyev had not changed in bulk at all over the course of the past twenty minutes. Before this little exercise his clothing had sat elegantly on his frame, all slimly tailored crisp lines. Now, it was still pristine.

If Juno hadn't watched it happen himself, he wouldn't have believed it. 

Swallowing down his complete and utter dismay, he reached for one of the weapons and lifted it gingerly to evaluate the weight. Some of the knives really were long enough to qualify as swords, and some were small enough that they might actually have begun their lives as toothpicks. Hard to tell.

"I think I got this one from a cocktail?" pondered Nureyev, twirling a miniature dagger between his fingers before hissing and swearing. "Ow! Huh. Maybe not."

"Hey, Nureyev?" Juno asked, his voice finally cracking. He reached for one of the snack bars, unwrapping it briskly and shoving a chunk of it into his mouth before speaking around a mouthful of oats, "What the  _hell_?"

"Fashion is an art form just like any other, love. Most people underestimate the ability of a good tailor to --"

"Create pockets that sustain life?"

"Isn't good fashion one of those things that make life truly worth living?"

"Nureyev. I'd ask if that's a hamster in your pocket or if you're happy to see me, but no, it's  _definitely_ a hamster."

On the floor, the hamster had clearly made up its mind to seize this opportunity. It scampered to the edge of the room, rounded the corner down the hall, and was gone. Peter looked for a moment like he was going to lunge after it, but then sighed and leaned gracefully back against the counter to watch it go. "Bye, Juno," he said sadly. "Have fun out there."

Juno choked, indignant, on his snack. "You named your hamster  _after me_!?"

Nureyev's shrug was so nonchalant, it was almost possible to believe he didn't think anything of the matter. "It's a beautiful name, detective."

"It's also  _mine_!"

"Excellent. If he lives in your apartment now, there will be no need for you to update any names on the lease." And then the thief frowned. "I do hope he sticks around. He's excellent company."

"I'm not looking after your hamster for you."

"He's a very independent creature, my Juno. Won't permit anybody to take care of him, really." Nureyev shook his head, reaching forward to the tray. "Believe me, I've tried. Oh, I forgot about this wig—I'd been wondering where I'd left it." The thief grabbed a tangle of hair and began fluffing it determinedly, clicking his tongue in disapproval at how the bangs were sitting.

Juno's head was absolutely pounding now. "Nureyev. Look. I'm not playing whatever game this is. If you're determined to get rid of it, Rita can look after the hamster, she'll dote over the thing."

"I'm very fond of him, actually. Though I suppose a vacation will do him some good. Now let's go find Juno, before he disappears into the vents. Or sewers. Juno has a habit of—"

The detective was already halfway to the door, calling over his shoulder without looking back, " _No_."

Nureyev sighed, and began the laborious task of repacking his pockets. "Suit yourself, detective." Grinned, despite himself. "I take it you don't want to hear about all the things I adore about Juno."

"...Maybe I could be convinced to sit through it.  _After_ we get the runaway rodent out of my apartment."

* * *

_There are different kinds of baggage._

_In a safehouse on a distant planet, the thief who currently called himself Victor Stone slept on a cot beneath a shuttered window. A name rose to his lips, soft and gentle, tender. Barely a whisper of a breath, unconscious and pure. His pointed teeth gleamed in the thin sliver of distant moonlight that slipped between the shades, smiling._

_Tomorrow, his companion on this heist would ask him: "Who were you talking about in your sleep—who the hell is Juno?"_

_And he would pull a hamster out from his pocket and smirk, suddenly wicked sharp. "Allow me to introduce you."_

_See, there are different kinds of baggage. Some, we carry despite ourselves. Others, we get to choose._

_Peter Nureyev had long ago mastered carrying one of those kinds of baggage. It was laughably simple, even. A twist or fold of fabric, a redistribution of mass, a trick of the eye and a shifting of the balance, and nobody would suspect a thing. But the other kind of weight to carry—well, that was much harder. Something of a recent work in progress, even._

_And he thanked his lucky stars for every ounce of it._

**Author's Note:**

> (Rita DOES keep the hamster, she calls him 'Mista Squeal," thank you for coming to my TED Talk)
> 
> ((Also I can't believe I've been asked this TWICE, but if you wanna use the hamster thing in your own fic, you have both my permission and my blessing. #freeJuno))
> 
> (((Edited for formatting 2019-03-10.)))


End file.
